


The Keepers

by englishrose (Authorqueen)



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dragons, M/M, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2017-12-21 07:03:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authorqueen/pseuds/englishrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What had first seemed like an innocent (okay, not so innocent) recon mission to Dalton Academy, quickly became the turning point in Kurt Hummel's life. Thrown into the life of a Keeper, Kurt has to now balance school (with added block-head bullies) with his new duties to keep the magical world in balance - and most importantly, Secret. On top of keeping his new, incredibly charming, good-looking (insatiable) and sometimes downright possessive dragon happy.</p><p>All in a day's work for Kurt Hummel. (Dragon!Blaine)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Mages

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pieces of a dragon puzzle](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/25150) by venitianstars. 



_“Dragon Mages are equally enigmatic as they are vital to the livelihoods of dragons. They are the safe-keepers of our eggs, as they alone can identify a Dragon Keeper; a soul strong and pure enough to handle a dragon’s primitive instinct, whilst disallowing themselves the opportunity for corruption.”_

_– Melissinda Fabray (1983) The Nature of Dragonkind and its Keepers_

Kurt stared at the two boys sat in front of him, both with winning smiles on their faces.

“What?”

The Asian boy sighed. “We aren’t going to beat you up.” He repeated emphatically, glancing at his friend sat beside him. “We know you were here to spy – or you _think_ you were – but fate has a funny way of playing out.” He gave Kurt a wry smile.

Kurt, for his part, was very confused. He spun his coffee cup in his hands, frowning. “So if you guys aren’t going to beat me up, why am I here?”

“Fate.” The Asian boy said again with a grin. And really, that was getting old.

“What exactly do you mean, _fate?”_ Kurt asked, searching both their faces for clues. The boys chuckled.

“You don’t seem the type to drive two hours purely for a recon mission, Kurt.” The black boy said kindly. Kurt balked.

“How do you know my name?”

The boy settled his hands in his lap. “I’m sorry, that was rude. I’m David, and this here is my friend and fellow council member, Wes.”

“That didn’t answer my question.” Kurt replied, eyes narrowing.

“Fate.” Wes said again. It was starting to be a bit obnoxious. Kurt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t getting any answers from these guys right now, so maybe if he answered a few of their questions they’d be a bit less cryptic.

“You’re right about my coming here for more than one reason. I just-” Kurt inhaled, gathering himself before exhaling slowly. “There is this Neanderthal at school who has made it his mission to make my life a living hell. I wanted to see if this” he gestured to the room, with its lavish décor, teak panelling and chandeliers “was real. I heard you had a no bullying policy?” he glanced at the two boys who nodded. “Even if somebody’s…” another deep breath “gay?”

The boys gave him a pitying smile. “No-one gets hurt at this school, because there is the no-tolerance policy. It’s enforced.”

Kurt bit his lip as he tried to smother the clenching in his chest. It was so unfair – there was a safe-haven so close, and yet so out of reach due to the fees and board. He sighed, dropping his head to look at his hands clasped in his lap, startling when he noticed the small drops of water gathering on the tip of his nose. _When the hell had he started crying?_ He hurried rubbed the evidence away from his face, taking a third deep breath before raising his head to face the boys again.

“I still don’t understand what you brought me here for.”

Wes reached over, taking Kurt’s hand and holding it firmly. Kurt stiffened, raising his eyes to Wes’ earnest ones. “We want to give you something.” Wes said softly “It’s pretty rare, but hopefully it will help you in the future.”

Kurt blinked. “Okay…” He internally panicked. He’d heard about boys at boarding school getting bored and then… _recreational._ But oh god, trust his luck! He hadn’t been in the school less than two hours, and he was being accosted by the school dealers. _Great._ “You guys do realise I’m not really into that sort of stuff, right?”

David laughed, getting up whilst shaking his head. “Neither are we, Kurt. Really. Trust us.”

Wes smiled, pulling his chair back and getting to his feet and pulling Kurt up with him. “Follow us.”

Kurt did, quietly slinking behind the two uniformed boys whilst taking in every bit of the beautiful school while he could. The opulent staircases and brassy lamps that lined the gilded hallways – everything about this place screamed grandeur, tradition… and expense. Kurt sighed, knowing the idea of ever attending this place was nothing more than a pipe dream.  
Wes and David led Kurt to what looked like an empty dorm at first. Puzzled, Kurt let David lead him to a sofa and set himself down, crossing his legs primly. Wes bustled over to a cabinet on the other side of the room. It was beautifully carved; intricate patterns of lilac, heliotrope and wisteria intertwining with each other, set in the warm colour of rosewood. Kurt peered around the figure of Wes’ back to see as he opened the cabinet doors. The interior was lined with plush, red velvet, and even from this distance, Kurt could feel the warm air coming from the cabinet. Kurt’s brow furrowed, confused. It was like some luxury incubator. _Weird._

David settled on the sofa next to Kurt, giving him a reassuring smile as Wes finally turned back around, holding… what were _those?_  
It looked like one of those trays that jewellers use; a flat board with velvet lining, with set little shapes where the jewellery would sit. Only this board was deep, allowing for the three opalescent orbs that sat within it, innocently in a row.  
Kurt had the absurd feeling that he’d just been sucked into a Pokémon game, and was about to be gifted with a Charmander. He looked between Wes and David before saying quietly “Am I supposed to choose one?”

Wes chuckled. “It’s not so much about _you_ choosing, but go ahead – try picking them up.”

Kurt bit his lip, before reaching cautiously for the orb on the far right. It was the colour of a robin’s egg, only it seemed to have a sparkling prism within it that glittered silver and white in the light coming from the dorm window. It was warm to the touch, and as Kurt weighed it in his hand, he felt a strange – though not bad - sensation that tickled up his arm, like he’d just dunked it in a warm bubble bath. He giggled, missing the look passed between Wes and David.

“How does it feel?” David asked quietly.

“Like I’ve just put my hand in a vat of champagne.” Kurt replied, staring at the orb with an uncontrollable smile on his face. He couldn’t help it; just touching the thing made him feel happy. Wes and David exchanged another significant look, before Wes suggested he try another. Kurt slowly put the orb back in its place, feeling a small twinge of regret. Humming to himself, he then reached for the orb in the middle. This one was far more opaque than the first. Whilst the first one reminded Kurt of a misty crystal ball, this one was more like the goldstones that Kurt had seen in those new age mystic shops that Tina had dragged him into. It was forest green in colour, flecked with little spots of gold. He carefully picked it up and weighed it in his hand. He didn’t even see it coming; one moment the orb was the same gentle warmth as the first, the next it was white hot, burning into his palm. Kurt yelped, nearly dropping the orb before Wes grabbed it from his hand. Kurt stared at the innocent looking stone, eyes wide as he cradled his hand.

“What the hell was that?!” he gasped.

“A resolute no.” David answered grimly, taking the orb from Wes and putting it back in its place on the tray. “Why don’t you try the last one, Kurt?”

Kurt eyed the final orb suspiciously, still cradling his injured hand. The last one seemed more ominous than the first two. It was pitch black, and rather dull looking in comparison. He glanced back up at Wes and David, silently asking them if this was a good idea. Wes gave him a small smile. “I promise, Kurt, this one is better behaved than the last.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow – the hell was that supposed to mean, _better behaved? –_ but with a sharp intake of air, he reached forward, taking the last orb in his hand. And waited. After a few moments, he turned to Wes. “Nothing.” He said with a shrug, moving to put the stone back, but Wes stopped him.

“Put it in your other hand, Kurt.” He murmured. Kurt stiffened slightly, before slowly exchanging the orb to his injured hand. The effect was immediate; a cooling sensation rippled over his hand, taking every bit of the burn away. The feeling then turned warm, travelling up Kurt’s arm and then down around his body, like a warm hug. Kurt visibly relaxed, sighing contentedly. The feeling curled at the base of his spine, travelling upward to the base of his neck. It felt weirdly like a caress.  
  
“How is it?” David asked, watching Kurt. Wes’ eyes never left the orb. Kurt smiled dreamily.

“Feels warm…” he whispered, but that was a huge understatement. It felt like he was drifting away, and yet it also felt like he was being held – _embraced_ almost. “Feels like a big, warm hug all over my body.”

Wes and David exchanged a grin that could have easily been called maniacal. Wes stood from the sofa, taking the tray with him as he made his way back to the cabinet. Kurt frowned, holding up the black orb. “Don’t you want to put this one away too?”

Wes turned back to Kurt, having locked the cabinet up again, shaking his head. “No, Kurt. You get to take that one home with you.”

Kurt’s eyes widened, looking back down at the orb that sat in the palm of his hand. It had a matt sheen to it, almost dull as the light from the window hit it. Kurt thought wistfully of the first orb, which had glittered so prettily in the light. But as he held the black stone he could still feel the warm curling around him, like a content cat. The first orb had given Kurt the impression of a five year old on too many e numbers. Maybe this soothing, mellow sensation suited Kurt’s needs more…

He turned back to Wes and David, eyes narrowing. “Okay, so you guys are giving me some homeopathic mood-stone to help me with my troubles… after I snuck into your school to spy on you? What’s the catch?”

David raised his hands in surrender, laughing. “No catch, promise. You don’t even have to pay us anything. Just do us one favour?” Kurt raised his eyebrow again, but nodded for David to continue. “Just look after it. Don’t leave it somewhere random, like your attic or the foot-well of your car, okay?”

Kurt nodded, eyes drawn back to the black sphere resting in his hand. He gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing as he slowly opened his messenger bag and slipped the orb inside. Straightening, he looked each boy in the eye before saying “So what now?”

Wes grinned. “Now, you go back to Lima and continue to live normally. Just keep this-” he tapped Kurt’s messenger bag, but Kurt knew he meant the orb inside it “In a warm place. Preferably with a lot of sunlight. He’ll like that.”

Kurt wrinkled his nose. “He?”

David laughed. “Don’t pay any attention to him. Go Kurt, it’s a long drive back home, and we’ve got Warbler practice.” He said with a wink. Kurt blushed, mumbling about being sorry for spying and being on his way now. The two warblers laughed again as they led Kurt back through the school, talking animatedly about sectionals as they went. When they reached the parking lot, David and Wes walked Kurt to his car, watching beadily as he placed his bag in the passenger seat.

“Kurt?” called David. Kurt rolled down his window, looking at David expectantly. He gave Kurt one last, thin, watery smile. “Take care of that stone, Kurt. It’s been with us for a very long time – this is like saying goodbye to an old friend.”

Kurt gave them both a slightly bemused look, before saying “I promise you both I’ll take good care of it.” And with that, he rolled the window back up, waving goodbye as he drove through the gated entrance-way and into Westerville itself, headed back to Lima.

 

-:-

 

Wes collapsed on the sofa that evening, smiling graciously as David passed him a cup of black coffee. “How long, David?” he asked, grinning.

His friend moaned, sinking back into the sofa next to him. “Too long.”

“C’mon, how long was it actually?”

David shrugged, putting his own coffee to his lips and taking a sip. “I’m not sure, seventy years? Eighty? Give or take.”

Wes laughed out loud. “God, he was so choosey!”

David gave Wes a wry smile, putting down his cup. “Some would say that, I prefer to think it as phenomenal patience.”

Wes snorted. “Patience? I put it down to nerves. I thought he’d never leave the nest.”

“Really? I thought it was quite the opposite – especially since Sebastian was sent to us.”

Wes hummed. “Yes. I spoke with him, by the way. About his behaviour today.”

“Oh?” David quirked a brow, picking up his drink and cupping it in his hands. “And how did that go?”

Wes rolled his eyes. “About as well as to be expected.”

“What was his problem anyway?”

Wes sighed, taking a sip of his coffee. “He said Kurt was far too girly for him, and that he was offended that we thought he’d go for that.”

David bit his lip. “Oh dear.”

Wes nodded. “Oh dear, indeed. I pray to the Gods that they don’t meet outside the nest – that could be messy.”

“For Kurt or the dragons?”

“Both.”

David nodded, sipping his drink pensively. “Well,” he spoke finally. “One _very stubborn_ one down, two more to go. I don’t think we’ll have much problem with Jeff. He’s getting itchy feet.”

Wes grinned again. “Yes – between Jeff and Seb, I’m surprised our dear friend didn’t jump the boat earlier.”

“Told you; patience of a saint.” Smirked David.

“ _Stubborn.”_ Wes retorted. “And very idealistic.”

“Touché.” David murmured, staring into the fire. The two mages stayed content in their companionable silence for a while, until finally David spoke up again. “What about that new kid, from Carmel?”

Wes’ brows shot up. “Duval? Hmm…” he pondered the thought, remembering the shy boy in his fifth period French class, and how he seemed so full of light yet so hesitant to make eye contact with anyone. “You may have a point there. Shall we test him tomorrow?”

David winked, taking another slurp of coffee with vigour. “I see no reason why not.”

 

-:-

 

When Kurt had finally got home (yes, _finally._ Traffic had been utter hell) he keeled over onto his bed, imagining himself suffocating in his duvet. No, he wasn’t suicidal, but the concept of going back to school tomorrow – back to Karofsky – was not a thought Kurt particularly relished. He rolled over with a groan, pulling his knees to his chest so he could unlace his boots before letting them fall hap-hazardously to the floor. He’d pick them up later, right now he was too tired to move.

He lay there for who knows how long. Obviously it was long enough to alert his family, because the tell-tale squeak of his door opening roused him from where he was drifting in and out of sleep, clothes be damned. Yes – he was _that_ tired.  
Finn peered from the doorway, taking in the sight of Kurt starfished on his bed before clearing his throat. “Um, Mom said dinner was nearly ready and to come and get you.”

“Mmkay.” Kurt mumbled, trying and failing to sit up. Finn snickered.

“Dude, are you okay? We didn’t see you at school today.”

Kurt finally sat up with a groan, running his fingers through his hair, and grimacing at what he felt. His head probably looked like something was nesting in it. “I took up Puck’s idea of going to Dalton.”

Finn’s eyes widened comically. “Did you get caught? Did they beat you up? Dude, if they did, me and Puck have no problem with-”

“First, Finn, it’s ‘Puck and I’.” Kurt interrupted, rubbing his eyes. He gave Finn a wan smile. “Secondly, no they didn’t beat me up. They were actually quite friendly.”

“So… you didn’t get caught?”

Kurt snorted. “Of course I did. Espionage is hardly my thing, and regardless of how fabulous I looked, I still stuck out like a sore thumb.”

Finn paused. “So they didn’t beat you up. What happened then?”

Kurt sighed, getting up from the bed. “They pulled me over and had a chat with me. Oh, and they gave me this weird stone that’s supposed to help with stress.” He shrugged.

Finn’s eyes lit up. “Cool! Can I see?”

Kurt gave him a fond but exasperated look. The boy was an oversized puppy, if there ever was one. “Later, maybe. I thought Carole had called for dinner?”

“Crap.” Finn muttered, following Kurt as they headed downstairs. “She hates it when I let dinner go cold.”

Dinner in the Hudson-Hummel house was always an interesting affair. A far cry from the quiet meals Kurt used to share with his father, Carole had brought warmth into the household, whilst Finn had brought the spirit. And, Kurt thought with a wry smile, the perfect football-buddy for his Dad. The two of them were currently exclaiming over the recent failures of the Buck-eyes over the mash potatoes, which thankfully was distracting Burt from the fact he was currently chowing down on chicken alfresco as opposed to a greasy burger and fries. Kurt exchanged a small smile with Carole as the two started moaning over the coach’s choices of starters, quietly cutting into his chicken and basking in the feeling of family.

Kurt let Finn follow him upstairs, trying to suffocate the image of a giant puppy as well as his own laughter. He pulled his door open, finding his boots and bag where he left them, sat next to the bed. Finn bounded onto the bed with a wide smile. “Let me see! C’mon Kurt, you’re holding out!”

Kurt laughed. “It’s really not that interesting, Finn.” He chuckled, pulling his bag onto his lap. His hand dove into the bag, and he frowned. Odd… he could have sworn it was in here earlier. He’d felt the weight and shape of it against his thigh when he walked in the house. He worried his lip between his teeth, remembering how earnest Wes and David had been when they made him promise to take care of the stone. He put his bag down on the bed, slipping down to the floor. Maybe it had fallen out of his bag and rolled under the bed? That would explain-

“Dude, is this it?”

Kurt jerked his head out from under the bedframe to see Finn pointing at the familiar orb which was sat on his dresser. Kurt stared at it. How…?

“…Yes.” Kurt replied slowly, pulling himself off his knees and making his way over to Finn. The taller boy grinned as he plucked the stone from off the dresser, grinning.

“Awesome, dude! Why’d they give you one this colour though? Black’s not really your- OW! Jesus!”

Kurt blinked as Finn almost threw the stone back onto the dresser, grabbing his hand as he did. Finn stared at the orb in shock. “Dude! That thing nearly burnt me!”

Kurt watched the orb as it lay innocently on his dresser, remembering that same burn from the green orb earlier. He picked up the black orb with a frown on his face. The orb was warm, and as soon as Kurt had hold of it, he felt that same sensation trickling over his body, like sunlight warming him from the inside out. He shook his head, trying to clear it before staring at the orb again. “That wasn’t very nice.” He chastised. Yes – he was talking to a stone. This is what his social life has come to. “That’s my brother, Finn. I’d like it if you didn’t hurt him, please.”

Kurt gasped as the feeling began to change. It twisted, pulling around his heartstrings and stroking tenderly at his back. The overall feeling, weirdly enough, was _apologetic._ Kurt sighed, holding the stone out to Finn, who was side-eyeing it with a grim expression. “I don’t want to touch it if it’s gonna pull that on me again.”

“It won’t.” Kurt promised, holding the stone out to Finn, who took it gingerly with his uninjured hand. Kurt gave him a pitying smile, repeating Wes’ words earlier. “Try the other hand.”

Kurt could see Finn’s trepidation, but slowly, he moved the orb from one hand to the other. Kurt watched Finn’s face closely, and felt a spark of smugness as the look of awe took over Finn’s face.

“That is so cool. It’s like it’s got healing powers or something. Can I show this to Mike? He’d love this, it’s like one of those healing stones on Skyrim!”

Kurt felt the smile slide off his face instantly as a strong urge of _No, Mine_ clawed at his belly. It kind of surprised Kurt – he’d never been particularly possessive before. But as he looked at the stone, he could almost feel its warmth pulling him closer, trying to get back to him, _calling him,_ as if agreeing with Kurt’s internal sentiment entirely. Kurt shook his head at Finn, taking the stone from his brother and cradling it in his fingers. Merely touching it made him feel relaxed. “No Finn. If it’s okay by you, I want to keep this to myself.”

Finn looked a little downcast at that, but then he shrugged his shoulders. “’Kay. If that’s what you want.” He stretched, nearly knocking his gargantuan arms into Kurt’s lamp. “I’m gonna go play COD for a bit. You should sleep – you seemed pretty out of it earlier.”

Kurt nodded. “It’s been a long day.” Finn grinned back, starting out of Kurt’s bedroom. Kurt chewed his lip, before calling “Finn?”

Finn looked back, questioning. Kurt sighed. “Don’t tell Dad and Carole about the stone, okay? I just want to keep it to myself for now.”

Finn gave him a thumbs up. “Sure thing, bro. Your secret is safe with me.”

 

-:-

 

Kurt had finally crawled into bed that night after forcing himself to make sure his clothes were properly hung up and boots put away, then going through his nightly skin regime (he might have skipped a couple products, but hey – he was really tired). His head had barely touched the pillow when he felt himself sinking into sleep.

But he’d never dreamt like this before.

The air was hazy around him, and Kurt felt so warm and comfortable, he couldn’t move even if he wanted to. And the air felt so thick, it fell upon him like a heavy blanket. Kurt was revelling in it, soaking up the warmth and comfort when-

_Oh._

Kurt shivered as he felt gentle fingers caressing his back, trailing against his spine and tracing circles around his shoulder-blades. Kurt melted against the touch, nuzzling into the warmth beneath him, and he could hear a soft chuckle echo from somewhere in the distance. His head was too muzzy to care. The fingers kept stroking his back, and Kurt swore he would have purred if he could. Instead he hummed, arching slightly into the touch. Whoever it was giving him the attention seemed to take this as an invitation, as the fingers suddenly changed to butterfly kisses that trailed delicately down his spine. Kurt groaned into the sensation, arching his back again, only to sink back into the softness beneath him as a gentle voice from above hushed him, hands stroking his brow gently. As Kurt settled, he felt the kisses start again, this time slower, less fleeting, giving more tender attention to Kurt’s now flushed, overheated skin. He mewled softly into his arms, feeling the heat and desire rush to his groin, his neck tilting back with a moan as the lips nibbled on the small of his back. His breath hitched as a hand curled around his throat, cradling his neck as if it were made of glass. Lip pressed themselves to his neck, and oh _god_ he felt his cock jump at the touch of a tongue lapping at his throat. Kurt moaned shamelessly, writhing where he lay on his stomach. The lips detached themselves from his neck, and Kurt found himself being held still as that voice hushed him once more. Kurt whined, aggravated. There was the chuckle again, and Kurt balked at the idea he was being laughed at.

He tried to pull himself away, but the hands that had been so fleeting and gentle earlier suddenly became firm, but not to the point where they were painful. But Kurt knew he was pinned, so he stopped struggling. “Why are you tormenting me?” he hissed out.  
The hands never left him, but Kurt could feel the circles being rubbed into his skin, and the gesture was soothing, regardless of Kurt’s feelings. He felt himself melting again under the touch, and he was powerless to fight it.

“What do you want?” Kurt moaned out, feebly trying to twist away from the touch, but only serving to give those persistent lips access to his neck again. He gasped as they sucked at his pulse, soothing little licks following, like a kitten. Kurt sighed, surrendering to the touch. He could hear content humming as the hands released him, running up and down his sides. He felt one hand trace a shape on his left shoulder, repeating the pattern again and again. The movement was so soothing, he could feel himself drifting away. Was it possible to fall asleep within a dream?

Finally, he felt those lips press into his shoulder, exactly where those fingertips had been. The skin warmed beneath those lips, and Kurt moaned again at the tingling feeling. Satisfaction seemed to permeate the thick air as kisses rained down on Kurt’s back again. Kurt could feel himself slipping; the dream was fading into darkness. As he felt himself drift away, he swore he heard a gentle voice say _“Mine now, Kurt. Mine.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: This story is based on the fabulous fanfiction ‘Pieces of a dragon puzzle’ by venitianstar on fanfiction.net. I urge you to go read it – her version of baby-dragon!Blaine had me cooing into my blanket for an hour straight. Thoroughly pissing off the neighbours and my roommate in the process, might I add. 
> 
> Whilst V’s story is pretty light-hearted and mostly beautiful, dragony fluff, I wanted to take the story to a slightly darker, possibly more adventure-centric level. Dragons, in my opinion, have always been greedy, possessive creatures. Like glorified magpies.  
> Also; dragon sex is awesome. Expect it. Just saying. I’m going to play around a lot with this. The whole thing is pretty AU (Dragons? Hello?), but unlike V’s story, I’m introducing other magical roles, like mages, witches, poachers, etc. Don’t expect vampires and werewolves though. Seriously. You are more likely to find a hobbit in this story than Edward Cullen. 
> 
> If you have read this much of an author’s note, you deserve all the cookies. All of them. By the way, if anyone is interested in beta-reading, send me a shout out, as I’d be very grateful. (I’ve been on hiatus for… well… years. So a beta would be good probably.)
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	2. The Mark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spot the dragon.

_"The Mark of a Dragon is both a symbol of ownership and of partnership. The Mark is alway unique to each dragon, and will only ever be gifted to one potential per dragon. Its binding is absolute, as is a Dragon's dedication to their chosen Keeper."_

_\- Melissinda Fabray (1982) The Bonds of Dragons_

 

It was the sun that woke Kurt the next morning, peering through a crack in the curtains and battering at Kurt’s eyelids. He slowly blinked his eyes open, glancing at his alarm clock. 6:45am. Technically he still had fifteen minutes to sprawl in bed, and after last night’s dream, Kurt deserved some thinking space. He could still feel that lingering sense of comfort wrapped around him. Even the phantom sensation of his shoulder burning was still there. He stretched gingerly, testing the pull of his skin and muscles. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He frowned, pulling himself out of bed and padding toward his en-suite. He tugged the swinging cord, and the light overhead flickered on, the light uncomfortably bright before Kurt finally adjusted.  
  
He pulled off his pyjamas slowly, hanging them on the hook behind the door, before slipping into the shower and turning on the faucet full blast. Normally he’d be humming show-tunes to himself by now, but he felt off. As the water pelted him, Kurt still couldn’t shake the feeling of hands ghosting up and down his body, exploring and worshipping simultaneously. He blushed under the water, trying to convince himself it was only the water’s heat that had him flushing strawberry pink. It wasn’t really working.  
  
Kurt couldn’t understand it – surely the more awake you were, the more you left your dreams behind? But the familiar touch was persistent, like a phantom lover. Kurt gasped, finally giving in to his hormones and grabbing his own hardened cock that swung between his legs. He hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut in quiet mortification. He hadn’t jacked off like this since… well, ever really. Sex wasn’t really on Kurt’s agenda – he was more of a romantic, dreaming of sunlit afternoons walking across fields of gold, hand in hand with his partner. Beating off like this seemed crass in comparison; it was probably what the football jocks did in their spare time, visualising bouncy tits or something.  
  
The thought alone was enough to put Kurt off, and he dropped his softening cock like he’d been burned. The touches seemed to evaporate, like the phantom presence had backed off entirely. Kurt sighed, not about to hide his relief. After last night, it was all a bit much.  
He quickly shampooed and conditioned his hair, scrubbed his body clean with his favourite scrub that smelt of lavender and gardenias, before stepping out of the shower and wrapping a soft towel around his hips.  
  
He grabbed his tub of moisturiser, wiping the steamed-up mirror as he did- and yelped. The moisturiser slipped out of his fingers, and fell to the floor with a clunk. Thankfully the lid hadn’t been off – Kurt couldn’t afford to replace his expensive skin products too frequently – but at the moment the state of his moisturiser was the last thing on his mind. With eyes like saucers, he shakily raised his finger to brush at the angry purple bruise that sat in the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

…That wasn’t there last night.

Had he caught himself on something whilst he was asleep? But he would have felt it. He would have woken up. He stroked the tender skin again and winced. That bruise wasn’t deep, like the ones you get when you’ve knocked yourself. There was the tell-tale red dots that suggested the blood had been brought right up to the skin. Like a _hickey.  
_ Kurt shivered, wrapping his arms around himself, suddenly feeling exposed. Had he been attacked by a vampire-wannabe in the night? He certainly hadn’t let anyone _that_ close to his neck in daylight hours. That and he’d remember if someone had-

His memory flashed back to the dream. Of being pinned and caressed, and kissed and held and ever so sweetly tortured by those lips…  
He shook himself out of it, steadfastly ignoring the blush that travelled from the tips of his ears all the way down to his navel. He bent and picked up the abandoned jar of skin product, opening it with a deft twist and dabbing the cream into his skin. From the back of his mind – and Kurt furiously told himself it was his imagination – he heard what sounded like a small, endearing laugh.  
 

-:-

 

Kurt threw open the door of his step-brother’s bedroom, and instantly recoiled. The floor itself was nigh visible, camouflaged by a mixture of dirty clothes, half-eaten bags of doritos and an entire squid-monster made of game-console wires. The bed itself stood in the middle of this teenage quagmire and… how the hell did Finn sleep like that? Kurt leant his head to the side and squinted at the messy bed hair that poked out from under the duvet. Finn was sleeping upside-down, his head hanging off the end of the mattress. The rest of his body was cocooned in his duvet, apart from one foot that was resting on a pillow at the top of the bed, precariously close to knocking over his bedside lamp.  
  
Kurt coughed pointedly, hoping it would rouse Finn at least a little bit. It only made the messy bed-head retract itself under the covers, like a tortoise in its shell. Kurt sighed, before taking a deep singer’s breath, filling up all the way down to the diaphragm.  
   
“FINN!”

The gangly boy sat bolt upright with a muffled “M’up!”  
Kurt groaned and turned around. He did not need to see his brother in his boxers first thing in the morning. The awkward levels would be waaay too high, considering Kurt’s crush last year. Plus – _morning wood._

Kurt shielded his eyes, snapping “You are _not_ up. Come on – I’m leaving for school in fifteen minutes!” He stomped back into his own room, running a cursory glance at himself in the mirror. His white and grey ensemble today was fittingly stylish whilst not ostentatious. Plus, the slightly higher collar – whilst totally out of season – hid his mystery bruise mostly. He sucked his teeth, tsking, before throwing open his closet again to find his collection of scarves. He gently tugged out a black scarf, printed with grey McQueen skulls, and wrapped it around his neck.

Perfect. Now no-one would question his fidelity. Except Santana, who’d probably get suspicious of a scarf in such warm weather on a normal day, let alone the day after he’d been scouting an _all-boys school._ Kurt glared at his reflection, wishing the incriminating hickey would just disappear. His eyes flicked to the black orb that sat next to the mirror. He wasn’t sure why, but the whole thing just seemed… off. He could feel the warmth radiating from it from where he stood. But that was stupid – if it was _that_ hot, it would be leaving scorch marks all over his dresser. He shook his head, muttering to himself, glancing back at the mirror to check his hair before picking up his car keys. And froze.

His eyes flicked back up to the mirror, but unlike the hickey, what he’d just seen – or thought he’d seen – was no longer there for validation. Kurt stared at the mirror, his eyes scoping each nook and cranny of the room beyond the looking glass, before convincing himself it was just him being paranoid. First the dream, then the shower, then the hickey? Who wouldn’t be jittery? And this was all before nine o’clock in the morning. Kurt decided right then he was going to stop by the Lima Bean for some chamomile tea before school.  
He yelled at Finn once more as he made his way downstairs, pulling his messenger bag over his shoulder whilst shaking off the image in the mirror.

There were no golden eyes staring at him in the mirror. He was just being paranoid.

-:-

“Kurt!”

Kurt barely had time to brace himself before an armful of Rachel Berry had glomped him in the middle of the hall. “I heard you went to Dalton yesterday! What were you thinking?!” The impromptu hug was suddenly replaced with a firm punch to the shoulder. “The New Directions would never lower themselves to _spying._ What if they caught you?”

“They did catch me, Rachel.” Kurt replied with a wry smile. She squeaked, eyes widening.

_“What?!_ Did they hurt you? Torture our set-list out of you? Kurt, if we have to rethink our performances because-“

“Rachel!” Kurt grabbed her shoulders before the flustered girl could turn any redder in the face. “It was fine. They didn’t torture me, and they don’t know our set list.”

Rachel peered at him, eyes narrowed. “So what _did_ happen then?”

Kurt shrugged nonchalantly, smoothing his waist-jacket that Rachel had inadvertently rumpled in her earlier attack. “Not much. I talked with the leaders of the group about a few things. They gave me this homeopathic stone to help relieve stress, or something.”

If anything, Rachel’s eyes narrowed even further. “A stone?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “A stone. It’s sat in my room at the moment, in case you’re worried it’s bugged or something.” He gave her a patronising look, which made her huff.

“Can’t be too careful.” She muttered. Suddenly, the corridor erupted in whoops, and the tell-tale sound of liquid hitting the floor bounced down the lockers. Rachel and Kurt exchanged a look, before Kurt hurriedly shut his locker and started with Rachel toward the source. The blockheads who were responsible were nowhere in sight, although their catcalls could still be heard down the hall. The remains of a bright blue and green slushie-cocktail covered the floor, and a spit-spot trail made a path towards the girl’s bathroom. Kurt pulled out a towel and a tube of face-cream from his bag, nodding at Sam and Mike - who were leaning against the bathroom door with twin looks of murder on their faces – before hurrying in to do his best at a repair job.

Mercedes was bent over a sink, trying to wash away the green ice and syrup that had landed on her chest. Tina meanwhile was squeezing out her hair with paper towels, muttering to herself about no longer having blue hair for a reason. Kurt wordlessly offered her the towel, which she took with a small, tired smile. Rachel beside him put her hands on her hips, seething.

“Who was it this time?”

Mercedes pulled herself up from the sink, grabbing more paper towels to blot at her neck. There was no saving her top from hulk-green ruin, Kurt noticed mournfully. It was fashion murder; that top looked like it had been fabulous. She rubbed her reddened eyes with the towel before balling it and throwing it in the bin. “Azimio and his groupies.” Mercedes replied with a sneer. “I don’t know what their problem is, but those boys are seriously asking for an ass-whooping.”

Kurt smiled sadly. “When you find someone willing to deliver on that, tell them to go with my blessing.”

Tina and Mercedes exchanged looks. Tina coughed. “Has Karofsky still been bothering you, Kurt?”

Kurt shrugged. “No more than the usual.”

Tina bit her lip. “I could ask Mike to keep an eye out for you, if you like?”

Kurt snorted. “I’m sure Mike has his own problems without worrying about mine.” He scratched the back of his head. “He and Sam seemed really tense though – I think they’re still waiting outside.”

Tina straightened slightly, before a coy smile passed over her lips. “They’re just protective. We best go out to show them we’re fine.” She passed Kurt back his towel – now stained a brilliant, smurf-blue – which made Kurt grimace and promise himself that he’d soak it in warm water and detergent when he got home.

The rest of the day passed without much more incident. Except when Karofsky locker-checked him between third and fourth period. The brief pain to his left side had faded by the time he got to the choir-room, but for some reason there was an uncomfortable burning coming from his shoulder the whole time they were singing. Weird – his shoulder hadn’t even collided with the lockers.

Mr Shue clapped his hands with a broad smile as the group finished up Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Tell me lies’. “That was great guys! I hope this week’s Fleetwood remedial reminded you to stick through each other’s issues, instead on ignoring them.”

“Preach!” Artie grinned, pushing his glasses up his nose. Shuester gave him a quick nod before turning back to the rest of the club. “Next week’s assignment – I want to hear you guys come up with some songs about _Secrets._ Particularly – sharing them. I don’t want there to be any barriers between us and nationals this year, including the barriers we put between each other.” He gave everyone a hard, meaningful look. Behind Kurt, Santana shifted in her seat slightly. A quick glance over the shoulder told him she was glaring back as good as she got. He snorted to himself, shaking his head, and quick as a flash her hard gaze was on Kurt. He could feel himself recoiling in his seat slightly. Santana wasn’t _that_ fierce all the time.

He gasped as heat flooded his left shoulder, and he grabbed at the fabric that hid it from public view. Santana’s brow furrowed as she watched. Rachel sprung from her seat, followed by Mercedes, Tina and Finn. “Kurt, what’s happening?”

Kurt hissed. “I think I’ve pulled a muscle in my shoulder.” That would explain the burning. But now that Santana wasn’t looking at him like she wanted to eat him, the burn was starting to ebb away. He sighed in relief.

Santana, however, was not letting go as easily as Kurt was. She gave Brittany a side-long look before murmuring “Make sure he’s okay, Brit-brit?” The blonde nodded, shifting out of her seat to perch next to Mercedes, joining the girls (plus Finn) in their fretful cooing. Santana’s eyes flicked up to meet first Shuester, then Artie, before she slipped from her own seat to join the rest of the Glee Club, who were muttering to themselves quietly.

They eyed her as she approached, putting a hand on her hips. She smirked. “So what do you think that was about?”

-:-

Kurt sighed as he got back into the house, Finn shuffling in behind him warily. Kurt gave him the stink-eye, muttering “Come on, Finn. You haven’t left me alone since glee club. Let me have some space.”

Finn’s eyes narrowed, shaking his head. “You’re acting funny, dude. I thought that stone-thing was supposed to help you?”

Kurt sighed, throwing his bag onto the couch before rifling through it to find his stained towel. “I didn’t take it to school.” He replied.

Finn’s eyes bugged out. “Kurt, that was the point! How’s it going to help you from home here?”

Kurt raised an eyebrow at him, bemused. “How is it going to help me at school? Apart from make my bag that much heavier?”

Finn opened his mouth to reply, paused, then shut it with an audible snap. “Whatever, man. Just, you probably wouldn’t be bothered so much if you took it with you.”

Kurt snorted, meandering over to the kitchen sink and letting the hot water tap run. “Why? I doubt Karofsky would stop, even if I did threaten to brain him with a homeopathic stone. I’d be surprised if he cares too much about his brain’s condition.” He paused, plugging the sink and reaching for the detergent. “Are we even sure he has a brain?”

Finn sighed. “That’s not what I meant. I saw you earlier, with your shoulder. Maybe the stone would help? It is a healing thingy after all.”

Kurt turned to fully face Finn, turning off the tap. “Why are you so fixed on taking that thing to school? Is this about showing it to Mike?”

“No!” Finn defended, raising his hands. “It probably just doesn’t like being left here alone.”

Kurt stared at his step-brother, not sure whether to laugh or take Finn to the doctors. “The stone has feelings now?” he asked, deadpan.

Finn shrugged. “I don’t know. I saw this thing playing Zelda once, where-” At that point, Kurt tuned out, turning his attention to the towel now soaking in sudsy water. He sighed, pulling it out of the water and wringing it before inspecting the damage. He felt the grimace on his face, resigning himself to the fact his once white, fluffy towel would forever be now a faded, robin-egg blue.

“Are you going to the sleepover tomorrow night?”

Kurt jerked, turning once more to face Finn, who had at some point helped himself to a bag of Cheetos out of the cupboard. “What sleepover?”

Finn rolled his eyes, smiling. “The one that Rachel wouldn’t stop going on about in Glee Club. You weren’t listening?”

No. Actually he’d been a bit fixated on the bruise forming on his hip from Karofsky’s locker-check, and the following, strange burning on his shoulder. Kurt bit his lip. “My thoughts were a bit preoccupied.”

Finn’s eyes darkened a bit. “Is it Karofsky? Kurt, seriously, me and Puck are all too happy to sort that guy out.”

Kurt rubbed his temples with practised patience. “ _‘Puck and I’,_ Finn. And it’s okay, really. If I can’t handle things on my own now, I never will.”

Finn frowned. “Kurt, you aren’t alone.”

Kurt gave Finn a small smile in reply and turned back to the task at hand. As he curled up in bed that night, arms wrapped around himself, he could swear he could hear someone singing.

_“You’re not alone, ‘cause you’re here with me…”_

-:-

“Looks like Lady Hummel got his mack on, girls.” Santana grinned, watching Kurt stumble into the choir-room as the late-bell rung. Kurt shot her a confused look, before flushing. Dammit! He’d forgotten his scarf. He gave Santana a scathing look. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I haven’t.”

Santana crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “So how do you explain the mother of all hickeys on your neck?”

“Happened in my sleep.” Kurt growled out, plonking himself in his usual seat and yanking a copy of Vogue from his bag, determined to ignore her. This morning had been hell – first he overslept by half an hour, which had seriously cut into his morning routine. He’d skipped half his exfoliation regime and Kurt knew his skin would suffer for it. He’d practically thrown himself into his closet and picked up – not the _first things he’s seen,_ that would have probably caused a fashion melt-down – but the first obvious outfit that came to hand. He picked at his jumper with a frown. He knew he could to better. He huffed, turning a page in his magazine.

It had been the dream’s fault, Kurt decided.

It had started out the same as the night before; comfortable warmth, hazy, golden light that seemed to obscure everything. Kurt had felt his breath hitch when he recognised the place. And again when the first tentative touch brushed his shoulder.  
Kurt had flinched, scrambling away from the touch, telling whoever it was to ‘stay the hell away’. It had taken a moment to realise the hazy gold aspect of his dream had faded to a muted grey, and that the comfortable warmth had turned cooler, like a luke-warm bath. The presence didn’t try to touch him again. Kurt had wrapped around himself, waiting for the purgatory-like dream to end, when the sound of quiet keening came to his ears. The muzziness of the dream had immediately become sharper, and in the blink of an eye there was a small boy – he looked like he should be in Elementary school – in front of Kurt. Kurt had blinked at the boy in surprise as the small thing continued to keen and weep pitifully. He had curled in upon himself, much like Kurt had earlier, his head buried in his arms. Kurt watched the boy for a few more broken moments, before asking softly “Why are you crying?”

The boy didn’t lift his head. He just choked out quietly “You don’t want me.”

Kurt balked. He’d stared at the shivering boy, unsure what to do or say. Finally, he scooted over and wrapped his arms around the tiny boy. It felt weirdly natural. Kurt didn’t even blink when the boy latched onto him tightly, as if Kurt were about to abandon him again at a moment’s notice. He didn’t speak, just let the boy cry into his shoulder.

When he woke up, he was late.  
It didn’t stop him from picking the black stone up from his dresser, and slipping it into his school bag.

He could feel it now, sat in the choir-room as he demurely flicked through his Vogue, one leg primly crossed over the other. His bag leant against his leg, and through the supple leather, he could feel the warmth of the stone. It was reassuring, in a way. And a little weird, as the stone had been cool to the touch earlier.

He didn’t notice Brittany throwing herself into the chair beside him until she actually started poking his neck. He spun in his seat and glared at her. “Quit it, Brittney.”

Brittney just gave him a dreamy smile. “’Tana used to give me those too. She said it was because I was hers and she loved me.” She lowered her voice “Is yours as scary as Tana is when it’s mad?”

Kurt stared at her. Honestly, between Brittney and Finn, he didn’t know who was the most gullible. No, wait, he did. Finn won the gullible prize, Brittney was just…out there. “Brittney, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Brittney just grinned. “That’s okay. You will.” She got up and stretched, her cheerleader top slipping upward and showing off her midriff. Kurt frowned. He didn’t know Brittney had a tattoo. But there it was, in plain sight; a small, sleek, red dragon with its wings stretched wide and tail curved upward.  
As quickly as it was in sight, it was gone as soon as Brittney dropped her arms with a happy sigh. She tapped Kurt affectionately on the head, saying “Well done for not leaving it behind today. You made it cry yesterday.”

Kurt stared as the blonde skipped off to join Santana at the back of the room. _He’d made **what** cry, exactly? _Again, his head spun as he remembered the quivering, tiny frame that he’d held close in his dream, giving the boy tiny and reassuring strokes down his back. He shook the thought from his head, trying to focus.

The stone is his bag grew warmer.

-:-

“I don’t understand. Why doesn’t Wesley just take off the damn mask instead of letting her whack him like that?” Santana intoned, tossing a piece of popcorn in the air to catch in her mouth.

Rachel frowned at her. “Because Wesley is the epitome of a true romantic.”

Santana snorted, eyes glued to the screen in front of them. “Because romance is going ass over tits on a hill whilst screaming ‘as you wish’.”

“But Tana,” Brittney said, snuggling closer to the abrasive latina, “they end up falling down the hill of love together, and then they’re happy.”

Kurt smiled. “The hill of love?”

Brittney nodded. “That’s what Lord Tubbington says. They fell down the hill to show they’ve fallen in love. So it’s the hill of love.”

Santana snorted, wrapping her arms around Brittney. “I don’t care what the cat says, you don’t go falling for anyone else, kay Brit?”

Brittney nodded with a small smile. “S’okay, I’ve already got you Tana, so I don’t need a hill.”

“Could you stop talking? We’re trying to watch a movie.” Quinn smirked, throwing popcorn at Santana which scattered all over Rachel’s duvet. Santana growled at her, which just kept Quinn smirking her queen bitch smile. Kurt watched them with an affectionate roll of his eyes. He turned back to the screen, where Rodents of Unusual Size were trying to eat Wesley and Buttercup.

“Kurt, what’s that?”

“Hm?” Kurt turned his head to face Rachel, who was staring at his pyjama’s collar. He groaned. “Not this again – I told Santana, it’s not a hickey and no, I don’t know where it came from.”

“Not that.” Quinn rectified smoothly, “The thing on your shoulder.”

Kurt’s eyebrows shot into his hair. “My shoulder?” he repeated, bemused.

Tina had already clambered over the bed, and Kurt recoiled in horror as she started tugging on his pyjama top. “Hey no, stop that! You’ll crush the silk!” he yelped, pulling away and giving her a hard glare. Tina met him just as fiercely.

“We need to see, Kurt.”

“Why?!”

“Wasn’t your shoulder bothering you yesterday in Glee Club?” Mercedes asked, sitting down next to Kurt with her brows furrowed. Kurt gave her a withering look.

“Yes, but that was probably because Karofsky-”

“Can it, Lady face.” Santana quipped as she strode over and with one swift movement had pulled the top clean off Kurt back. The collective gasp was not reassuring.

Kurt froze, not quite able to process what had just happened. His pyjama top hung loosely in Santana’s hand as she gave a low whistle. “Nice tat, Hummel.”

_“What?”_  Kurt screeched, bounding off the bed. He zipped into Rachel’s en-suite, yanking the light on as he did. The girls crowded in after him, and Rachel obligingly pulled out a hand mirror from one of her sink drawers, holding it up to eye level as Kurt stared, horror-struck, into the mirror.

There, on his left shoulder, exactly where the burning had been yesterday… and the weird itch… and even those ghosting fingers in his dream… was a stark black, circular shape. Only it wasn’t a circle, it had a wing to one side, stretching out towards the base of his neck. A head dipped slightly as a tail tapered off under it’s chin, and within the dark shadow of that head, a bright, amber eye peered out; a speck of gold in a sea of black. Kurt stared at it, willing this all to be some big prank. Or a dream. Or-

“Kurt, breathe!”

Oh. When had he last breathed again?

The last dregs of cohesive thought fled Kurt’s mind when, without warning, his shoulder was on fire with pain. He screamed out, buckling under the sensation of flames on his skin, even though he could _see_ there was nothing there. A hand gripped his arm, nails digging into his skin to grasp his attention, and he spun to see Quinn, her eyes cool and collected in stark contrast to his own wild, panicky ones.

“Kurt, you need to calm down. Deep breaths, Kurt. Calm down.”

In the distance, Kurt could hear someone yelling. He wasn’t sure when Brittney left the en-suite, but suddenly she was rushing back in, cradling something in her hands whilst murmuring to it soothingly.

“Give it to him, quickly!” Santana snapped, pulling Brittney forward.

Kurt stared dazedly at the girls, unsure what was going on, but suddenly he felt a weight in his hands-

The pain disappeared. Kurt shuddered bodily, feeling warmth flood him, like the muzzy place in his dreams. He was floating. He was falling. He was-

“Whoa there.” Mercedes caught Kurt as he fell, making sure the black stone stayed firmly in Kurt’s hands. Thank God the boy had brought it with him. She gently pulled Kurt from the bathroom and onto Rachel’s bed, followed by the worried faces of the rest of the Glee Club girls. Rachel stared at Kurt’s knock-out form for a moment, before turning to Quinn. “That’s not supposed to happen.” She whispered. Quinn nodded quietly.

Tina bit her lip. “The mark was black.”

“I know.” Replied Quinn quietly as she moved forward to Kurt’s side, propping the stone more securely next to him.

“We should call Artie.” Tina continued quietly, watching Kurt for any discomfort. Quinn sighed, turning to Santana. “Pass me your phone. This is going to be a long night.”  

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have no idea how amazing this support is for me. Thank you to all 260 of my readers of the first chapter, and again to all those lovely people who left those comments and kudos. I have had very little faith in my writing recently, and all of your feedback has made me feel ecstatic.  
> Seriously. There were numerous excited announcements on Facebook. Which led to people asking for the link. You try explaining to your aunt that actually, no; you'd rather she didn't read your homo-erotic glee fanfiction. That was interesting.
> 
> And no - no Blaine sightings just yet. But worry not! Good things come to those who wait, so please do stick around, dear readers.  
> And once again; thank you.


	3. The Voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a talky chapter. I'm giving you guys the details of this little world I'm creating, whilst trying not to give away all the spoilers... I think I failed. Anyway; how many dragons did you guys spot last chapter? See if you can find any more in this one.

_“The strength and nobility of a Dragon is defined by how closely they reside to the Dark. The Dark is the source of Dragonkind’s power, and the more powerful a dragon, the easier to corrupt. As such, a dragon’s chosen Keeper will be an equal and opposite force of Light, thus maintaining balance.”_

-          _Arthur Abrams (1952) The Dracorium_

It wasn’t the same as the other dreams. This time, Kurt was surrounded by pitch black – not that comfortable, warm haze or the cool slate grey – and it scared Kurt. It felt like he was lost in a maze, and no matter how he tried to escape, there was only more black at every turn. Panic twisted at his chest as he frantically moved about the infinite black, but the most confusing thing was that he wasn’t sure the panic was all his. Eventually, Kurt let himself slide to the floor, knees giving out beneath him. He was exhausted from running through the dark, exhausted from trying to find a way out. He pulled his knees into his chest and gasped for air, praying he would wake up soon.

“There you are!”

Kurt snapped to attention, his eyes seeking out whoever had spoken. No sooner had he looked when he saw the young boy from his dream from last night, hands on his hips, looking very flustered. The boy gave Kurt a disapproving look. “Don’t do that again! If you find yourself here then _stay put._ I’ll find you easier that way.”

Kurt glowered at the boy. “And where exactly is ‘here’? And what if I don’t want to be found?”

The boy tsked, crossing his arms. “I’ll still find you. And getting lost here is stupid – do you really want to lose yourself in your own head? That’s a thing, you know. It’s called a _coma._ Something I’d like to avoid you having.”

Kurt tilted his head as he took the boy’s appearance in. He couldn’t be more than twelve, yet the look of frustration on his face seemed far older. It didn’t sit right. The boy himself was a tiny, lithe creature with a mess of black curls on his head and eyes like amber. Those very eyes were watching Kurt like a wary parent watching their petulant teenager for cues. How did that work? The kid looked _twelve!_

“Why do you care so much about me anyway?” Kurt grumbled, getting to his feet. Maybe the added height would make the kid seem a little less domineering.

The boy frowned. “Because you’re my Keeper.” He said, as if that explained everything. Kurt blinked.

“Keeper? Do I look like a zoo worker to you? My wardrobe would never survive!”

The kid actually had the audacity to chuckle. Kurt glared at him, which promptly made the boy freeze, muttering “Wait. You’re serious.”

“Seriously annoyed.” Kurt growled out, still glaring. “And utterly confused. What do you mean, we’re in my head? My head is not this-” he glanced around the black space, lost for words.

“Bleak?” the boy offered. “Empty?”

Kurt snapped round to the boy again, eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me stupid?”

The boy raised his hands in defence. “God, no! I wouldn’t dream of it!” The boy glanced around too. “It isn’t usually like this. Usually it’s much warmer, and everything is organised and easy to see.” He gave a broad grin to Kurt. “You never did try to hide yourself.”

“So how do you explain this?” Kurt snapped, crossing his arms.

The boy looked around again, puzzled. “I’m not sure…” his eyes flicked over to Kurt’s drawn-in expression, and sighed. “Didn’t Wes or David tell you anything?”

Kurt stiffened. “Wes and David? The Warblers? What have they go to do with this?”

To Kurt’s surprise, the boy let loose a long groan, his face disappearing into his hands. “You’re telling me you know nothing? About potentials, or keepers, or anything?”

Kurt sniffed. “What do you mean, ‘I don’t know anything’?”

The boy groaned again, rubbing the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “Memo to self.” He mumbled “Don’t encroach on Kurt’s pride, it make him insensible.”

Kurt stared at the boy, incredulous. Did he really just say that? Really? “Who the hell are you?!” Kurt finally snapped, his crossed arms unfolding to bring his hands firmly on his hips. It was a stance that sometimes cowed even Rachel Berry, but to Kurt’s dismay, the boy only seemed to be unimpressed.

“I can’t tell you yet. It’s too early.”

“What do you mean, ‘too early’?!”

The boy huffed. “What I mean is just that! You need to talk to someone about this soon, because the clock is ticking and I’m not just going to sit around and wait for you to open up forever!”

“You aren’t making any sense!”

In a flash, the boy was up close – _really close –_ their chests almost touching. Kurt’s eyes widened. The boy was no longer just that. In that small movement, he’d seemed to have grown at least a foot in height, his body filling out to be still lithe and compact, but much stronger. He peered into Kurt’s eyes, and this close Kurt could see that the amber was actually flecked with greens and browns.

With one swift movement, the boy – now looking the same age as Kurt – had taken Kurt’s wrist in his hand. “You need someone to tell you. I can’t. But I promise Kurt, when the time comes there will be no secrets between us.”

Kurt tried to pull away, but the grip only tightened. Not strong enough to hurt, but firm enough to ensure no escape. “I like keeping my business to myself.” Kurt hissed, still tugging at his wrist.

The boy snorted, bringing Kurt’s hand closer to him. “You think you can keep things from me? Even though I’ve just told you we’re in your headspace?” He didn’t give Kurt the chance to reply, instead bringing Kurt’s hand even closer to him and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. Kurt’s breath hitched. The boy just smiled at him under thick, long lashes, and god that _wasn’t fair._

Kurt took a deep breath. “You’re telling me this is all in my head?”

The boy’s smile flickered into a smirk, cradling Kurt’s hand as he ran his finger over Kurt’s palm. “For now.” Then the boy’s face fell into something more solemn. He took Kurt’s hand closer again, and rubbed his cheek into Kurt’s open palm. “It won’t be long. Promise me you’ll wait.”

Kurt stared. “Wait?”

“Yes. Wait. If you don’t there may be-” a harsh breath “ _consequences.”_

Kurt yanked his hand away, taking the boy by surprise. “I don’t like being threatened.”

“It’s not you I’m threatening.” The boy replied lowly. It sounded almost like a growl. Kurt resumed glaring at him. The boy sighed, running a hand through his curly hair. “Get someone to explain this to you. Find out what you need to before I get there – because once I do…” he trailed off, watching as Kurt became more and more defensive. The boy shook his head, and took another step forward. Before Kurt could step away, the boy’s arms wrapped around him, whispering in his ear “You are precious, Kurt. I saw that in you, and I wanted to protect it. And – I won’t lie – I wanted to keep it for myself.” He pulled away, looking Kurt straight in the eye.

“You wear my mark now, and you _are_ mine.” Kurt stiffened again in the boy’s arms, but the boy continued anyway. “I won’t tolerate anyone trying to take what is mine.”

“I thought you said I was _your_ Keeper?” Kurt whispered.

The boy gave him an affectionate smile. “You are. I’m yours, Kurt. You keep me from falling too far into all this.” He gestured around at the black space. “But you are mine also Kurt. Your nature doesn’t demand that principle. Mine does. So you would do well to wait for me.” His eyes pinned Kurt, darkening by the second, and Kurt would be lying if he said the look in the boy’s eyes wasn’t _stirring_ in the least. He bit his lip.

The boy’s eyes flickered to watch the action, then moved up to meet Kurt’s again. He was smiling again, but it was more wistful than anything. “God, I wish…” he whispered, shaking his head. He bit his own lip. “Too soon.”

Kurt tilted his head, confused. The boy looked away quickly. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair?” he asked quietly.

The boy didn’t respond, only instead he raised his hand and covered Kurt’s eyes. The total blackness startled Kurt, but what happened next startled Kurt even more. A whisper of breath brushed his cheek, and Kurt shivered.

“I want you to wake up. Now. Before I do something I regret.”

Suddenly the dark wasn’t there anymore. It was bright – a bright, cold light that pierced Kurt’s eyes.

With a gasp, Kurt jolted upright, sitting on Rachel’s bed. And he was alone.

-:-

Artie steepled his fingers, frowning. “You’re telling me Kurt has already been claimed?”

“That’s what I said, Wheels.” Santana replied flippantly, inspecting her nails. Brittany sat next to her, one hand playing with her hair, the other absently rubbing Santana’s leg in soothing circles. Santana was upset. Not by the claiming of their friend so much, no. It was the fact that two unknown Mages had made the match, and also it was the colour of Kurt’s mark.

“What did it look like again?”

Santana scowled. “Black as night. And it wasn’t just a mark, is was the crest of the ancients. I don’t like it, Artie. Our hierarchy is fine as it is.”

Artie smirked. “You know as well as I do that isn’t true.”

Santana hissed. “Well, at least they don’t push us around.”

“Who says Kurt and his dragon will?”

“I don’t trust someone that close to the Dark.” Santana growled. Her manicured nails started tapping the table she was sat on irritably. Artie nodded.

“That is understandable. But we know Kurt’s affinity to the Light is close to blinding anyway. There is a reason none of the eggs Shuester and myself have were compatible.”

“I thought it was because no-one in the nest played for Lady Hummel’s team.” Santana sneered.

Artie smirked. “True that. But also, none of them were strong enough to counter Kurt’s affinity. He’d have walked all over them.” Artie shook his head. “What concerns me is that Wes and David saw fit to do this without telling us first. Are they that desperate for potentials?”

Santana snorted. “Apparently.”

Brittany spoke up. “I think it’s good though. Lord Tubbington was getting worried about Kurt. He always seemed so lonely.” Her face lit up. “Now he’s found someone to protect him! I hope his dragon is a dolphin like Kurt.”

Artie gave her a confused look. “Dolphin Dragon?”

Brittany smiled. “It would be really sweet; a dolphin dragon and a dolphin unicorn together. They could fly on rainbows.” She lowered her voice. “If they find any gold, do you think Kurt’s dragon would share? I know ‘Tana really likes gold…”

Santana gave the girl a rare smile. “I like you more than gold, Britt-britt.”

Artie wrinkled his nose. “Gag. What you guys do in your free time is your business. If y’alls are done here, I’m gonna roll. Guy’s got better things to do than watch a dragon go goopy over their Keeper.”

Santana growled warningly. Artie just laughed. “Where is Kurt anyways?”

“He’s upstairs in Rachel’s room. He kinda fainted when he saw the mark.” Brittney chirped.

Artie blinked. “He fainted?”

“Yup.” Santana smirked. “Swooned like a fair maiden. I’m betting your boys at Hogwarts didn’t explain a damn thing to him. Think we should send them an owl?”

Artie glared at the desk in front of him. “I’d prefer to send a chimera. Jeez, do those two not think? Now it’s me and Will that are going to have to clear up this mess.” He sighed. “Where’s the others?”

“Kitchen.” Santana replied with a shrug.

Artie nodded. “I’m surprised Quinn’s not here; she and her mother have a thing about taking control of situations.”

Santana snorted. “Melissinda just takes her role way too seriously.”

“Perhaps that’s just as well.” Artie replied with a grimace. “She’ll be all over the newbie.”

Santana smirked. “I’m seriously counting on that. I hope she sets them down a peg or two.”

Brittney nudged her with a playful smile. “I’m pretty sure Kurt’s dolphin is a boy.”

Artie felt a huge urge to face-palm right there. Instead he sighed. “I’m sure he will be too. But I wouldn’t go round calling him a dolphin, Britt. Especially if he’s one of the ancients.”

Brittney crossed her arms, pouting. “I’m not sure I’ll like him if he’s all proud; Kurt’s too sweet to have someone like that.”

Santana spluttered. “Too sweet?! Are we talking about the same Hummel here?! Guy can be a queen bitch when he wants to be!” She frowned. “It would be really bad if this noob is a self-righteous douchebag though. Hummel’s pride is bad enough.”

Artie raised a hand, placating her. “I doubt he will be – claims don’t work like that, and you know it. Look at you and Britt.” He said, gesturing at the two girls. “You chose her because you knew she would complement you perfectly, like yin and yang. All claims work like that. Look at Rachel!”

Santana snorted. “Yeah, but those two are just plain weird. They aren’t even that possessive about each other.”

“They never intended to mate, Santana.” Artie reminded her.

“It’s still weird.” Santana grumbled, pulling Brittney a little closer to her. “I mean, look at Puck! They don’t even live together!”

“Anymore.” Artie chided again. “And that had a very good reason for it. Besides, I think Puck is much happier where he is, given the circumstance.”

Santana snorted. “They’re all weird.”

Artie shrugged. “When we started the club, Shue and I knew there would be a few wildcards. And that things would get crazy. You try pulling together an entire group of potentials on the quiet!”

Santana shrugged. “Not my problem, specs. I got what I wanted.” At this, she bodily pulled Brittney into her lap. Artie raised a brow at the action, but Brittney seemed completely non-plussed; in fact, she seemed to enjoy the attention, letting herself curl into Santana’s lap with her head resting on her dragon’s shoulder. Artie just shook his head in exasperation.

“Well, obviously I’m pleased for you. But maybe you guys should stop and be pleased for Kurt too. And this new dragon; last ancient I heard of was High Prince Cooper, and he hatched eighty years ago. If he had a brothering egg, it’s been waiting a very long time for its Keeper.”

Santana was unimpressed. “It shouldn’t have been so fussy then.”

“It would have to be pretty fussy if it was that powerful.”

Santana’s eyes narrowed. “More powerful than Cooper?”

Artie shrugged. “Possibly. And Kurt’s the right candidate if there was one – we know there’s a reason Cedes calls him ‘white-boy’, and it ain’t his skin colour.”

Brittney spoke up. “Kurt’s a unicorn. All unicorns are as white as the moon, because their powers are pure and magical.”

Artie gave Santana a pointed look. “What she said.”

Santana smirked to herself. “Well, whatever. Though I’m looking forward to the Lordship’s face when he finds out what the little princeling has shouldered himself with. Do they know the Hummels are as blue-collar as it gets?”

Artie shrugged again. “It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“But the eggs that get sent to Dalton are the ones looking for prestige matches. Everyone knows that!” Santana grinned. “Imagine what his Lordship will say about the son of a mechanic? The _son_ of a mechanic! Oh, this is gonna be _wanky.”_

Artie rubbed his temples. “We’ll get to that when we get to it.”

“When _you_ get to it!” Santana crowed, her worries about the new addition temporarily forgotten in her glee. “Britt and I are just here for the show.”

Brittney pouted again, turning her head to look up at Santana. “But I want to help Kurt. And I want to meet his dolphin. I wonder if he’s pretty…”

Santana gave her Keeper a long look. “Fine. You can play nice with the noob, but I won’t leave you alone with them.”

Britt snuggled back down again, appeased. “’Kay.”

Artie was about to start up again, when a quiet knock came from the door. After a short pause, Quinn opened the door to the Berry’s study, where Artie had holed up for the last two hours, talking to both her and Santana – with respective Keepers – in turn. She held herself with an air of dignity as always, saying quietly “I hope I’m not interrupting, but it may interest you to know that Kurt is awake. And he’s hearing the voice.”

Artie blinked. Twice. Santana stared at Quinn for a couple moments before saying softly “Already?”

Quinn nodded, before walking out again. You could hear her footsteps as she padded back upstairs, most likely to be with Kurt again. Santana turned back to Artie and gave him a hard look. “You need to talk to him. _Now.”_

Artie nodded, looking so tired he almost looked his age. “When he can, get him to come down here. I’ll explain everything.”

-:-

Kurt blinked down at the stone that was lying in his lap. “So… I’m not going crazy.”

_‘No.’_

“Then why can I hear your voice in my head? I see you in my dreams – you’re meant to _stay_ in my dreams.”

There was a derisive snort. Kurt frowned, still staring at the stone in his lap which had warmed the silk of his pyjama pants through to his skin. Strangely, the heat wasn’t uncomfortable. Kurt poked it. “What?”

_‘I’m the man of your dreams, huh? I like the sound of that.’_

Kurt flushed beet red. He picked up the stone, letting it gentle warm his hands. The warm sensation spread through him, flowing up his arms, over his shoulders, and cascading down his back like tropical rain. Kurt hummed at the feeling, it felt so safe. “Are you always like this?”

_‘Like what?’_

“Presumptuous. Charming. Possessive to the nth degree?”

_‘I’m told I can be quite dapper too.’_

Kurt quirked a brow. “Dapper?”

_‘Just wait and see.’_

Kurt was about to respond when the door opened, and Quinn swept into the room, her blue-lace dressing-gown billowing out behind her regally. Kurt paled at her speculative expression. Her eyes dropped to the stone in Kurt’s hands, and suddenly he felt very protective. He pulled the stone in closer to his chest, wrapping his arms around it, meeting Quinn’s gaze defiantly. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Of you talking to yourself?” Quinn clarified airily. “All of it.”

Kurt’s face dropped. “I’m not insane.”

“I know.”

Kurt stared at her long and hard, but she didn’t even fidget under his gaze; the very picture of cool resilience. He paused, gathering his nerve before asking “And how exactly do you know? Even I’m not sure at this point.”

Quinn gave him a small smile. “You should talk to Artie about it. He’s waiting downstairs.”

“Artie?!” Kurt repeated, incredulous. “How would Artie know anything about this?!” He gestured to the innocuous looking stone, which Kurt was strongly inclined to believe was to blame for the weird happenings lately.

Quinn sat demurely on the bed, her eyes sympathetic. “You know those boys you met in Dalton? The ones who gave you that?” She pointed at the stone. Kurt gaped at her.

“How do you know that?”

“Answer my question.”

Kurt sniffed, not liking the rebuttal. “Yes, I remember. What about them?”

Quinn reached out, and Kurt had to stop himself from recoiling. Quinn was rarely a touchy-feely person. Her reaching out to him was wrong to a new level. It was like a breach of understanding; Kurt knew that in the school’s social pecking order, he was pretty much dangling at the bottom of the food-chain, whilst Quinn was peering down at all the little people from the top of her lofty cheerleader pyramid. Why was she getting involved with him now? He nearly flinched when her hand came to rest on top of his knee. She didn’t seem to notice.

“Wes and David are mages. They are the mage guardians of Westerville, and they oversee the potentials that walk through the doors of Dalton.”

Kurt was confused. “You’re telling me this because…”

Quinn’s smile became a little patronising. Ahh, there’s the Quinn he knew and… understood. As far as he knew, there was no love lost between them. They were Glee Club. Relationship ties ended there. “Because,” Quinn said “Artie and Will – Mr Shue – are the designated guardians of Lima. They have the same job. Artie’s been a mage for quite a while now, so he can help. You should talk to him.”

_‘Yes, please do.’_

Kurt pulled the stone from his arms – was it even a stone? – and glared at it. “You stay out of this.” He muttered. “I’ll talk to who I want, and frankly if Artie’s been keeping this from us this long, I don’t know if I trust him.”

Quinn frowned. “Who’s this ‘us’?”

“Glee Club.” Kurt replied nonchalantly. To his surprise, Quinn let out a long laugh. He stared as if an alien had just popped out of no-where and declared Quinn was its cousin. That would have made more sense at this point; Kurt had never seen Quinn laugh like that before. It was a little unnerving.

“Kurt.” She finally choked out as her laughter died down. “The whole glee club _knows.”_

Kurt’s eyebrows nearly hit the roof. _“What?!”_ he hissed.

Quinn shrugged. “What did you think the auditions of Glee Club were for? I mean sure, we have some great singers, but think of who you started out with.”

Kurt thought back. “Me, Rachel, Tina, Mercedes, Artie and Finn.”

“With Mr Shue leading.” Quinn prompted, still smiling.

Kurt nodded, not sure where this was going. Quinn rolled her eyes. “You five were the only potentials Artie and Will could find in that whole school. Last year, most of the Glee Club potentials were claimed. Mike found Tina first, then Rachel, then Finn-“

 _“WHAT?!!”_ Kurt almost shrieked. “ _FINN was in on all this?!”_

Quinn shifted, for the first time looking uncomfortable. “It’s not my place to talk about it.”

 _“_ And what do you mean, _claimed?”_ he continued, ignoring her entirely. Forget recoiling and being on the defensive; his friends had actually shut him out on some huge secret. A secret which – apparently – included them being _claimed_ in some manner. Even Finn!! That hurt the most; he thought he and his step-brother had been really connecting since the wedding. Now? Now he didn’t know what to think.

Quinn made some calming movement with her hands. “Kurt, you need to breathe. You don’t want to upset the egg again.”

Kurt gaped at her. _“Upset the egg again?”_

 _‘I don’t like it when you’re upset.’_ Came a small voice from the back of Kurt’s head, and Kurt’s gaping mouth abruptly snapped shut. The little voice seemed almost mournful. _‘I feel like I should be there to protect you from being upset, but I can’t. It’s… frustrating.’_

Quinn eyes flicked from Kurt’s face to the stone – _egg –_ and back again. “Are you both okay?”

Kurt bit back the feelings of anger and betrayal, all for the sake of that little voice that reminded him far too much of a little boy curled in upon himself, crying. “I’m fine. Though I think _everyone_ has some explaining to do.”

Quinn gave him a short nod before pulling herself off the bed. She offered Kurt a hand, which he snubbed accordingly, setting himself upon his feet with the egg still tucked into his chest like a child’s stuffed animal, warming his bare skin above his heart. Nose firmly in the air, Kurt made his way out of Rachel’s room and down the stairs, preparing himself to tear a new one into his so-called friend, Artie Abrams.

-:-

“Are you sure?” David whispered to his long-time friend and colleague. Wes nodded slowly, which told David that no, Wes was not fully sure. But at this point, they’d take what they could get.

The boy stood before them was obviously a potential; he had a bubbliness about him, and a penchant for infectious laughter. But the actual power – the strength of the boy’s light – now that was what the two mages were questioning. Or rather, the motives of the dragon that was claiming him.

In the boy’s hands, the green-gold egg sat looking rather innocent. Wes wasn’t sure what the dragon’s motives were; the boy had barely enough power to balance out the dark. Was Sebastian welcoming the corruption? Or was he just plain bored of being a nest-egg? What with both Blaine and Jeff gone, it wouldn’t be surprising. But still, neither Wes nor David could shake the suspicion that Sebastian was playing a game here, and he was keeping his hand very close to his chest.

Wes fit a smile onto his face, hoping his internal worries weren’t on show. “We’re very glad you found him. If you need any help or guidance, feel free to come back and talk.”

“Thanks!” came the bright reply. “I’m sure we’ll be awesome though, so don’t worry about it.”

Wes felt his face tighten, but the pained smile stayed put. “Alright. Regardless, hopefully we’ll see you again, Mr…”

The boy’s eyes lit up behind his glasses, his smile never wavering. “Kiehl. My name is Chandler Kiehl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading - your support has been fantastic. I'm not the type of author to beg for or demand feedback, but those of you who do give it, I read all of them and they make me feel like I could wrestle a walrus.  
> ...Not saying I'd win, but the sentiment is there. :)  
> I'll try and update again soon. Love to all my readers -
> 
> ER x


	4. Author's Notice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A note from me to you...

Hello my lovely readers -

I hate to say this, but I have some bad news. First, I want to thank you for all your wonderful, supportive comments back in the summer. I was going through a dark time, and your comments made me feel like I had some self worth. I'm still here today thanks to you guys.  
I haven't updated for a while for 2 reasons: Reason 1; My health. It's a long uphill struggle of meds, job applications and social meetings, but I'm getting there. The second reason in one I suppose you guys are far more used to...  
Glee season 5 is a far cry from season 2, and I just don't like it anymore. (Kurt with a tat and tongue piercing? Really?) I lost my love for the characters and show, and found other fandoms that were more up my street. (Watch this space - I'll be adding a new story soon!) Also, I'm playing with the idea of dabbling around with the initial plotline a bit, and turning The Keepers into a fully fledged (haw haw) Original Piece Novel. Fingers crossed!

Thank you for sticking by me - I hope I will see you all again whilst we're floating around the web :)

Englishrose xx

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: This story is based on the fabulous fanfiction ‘Pieces of a dragon puzzle’ by venitianstar on fanfiction.net. I urge you to go read it – her version of baby-dragon!Blaine had me cooing into my blanket for an hour straight. Thoroughly pissing off the neighbours and my roommate in the process, might I add. 
> 
> Whilst V’s story is pretty light-hearted and mostly beautiful, dragony fluff, I wanted to take the story to a slightly darker, possibly more adventure-centric level. Dragons, in my opinion, have always been greedy, possessive creatures. Like glorified magpies.  
> Also; dragon sex is awesome. Expect it. Just saying. I’m going to play around a lot with this. The whole thing is pretty AU (Dragons? Hello?), but unlike V’s story, I’m introducing other magical roles, like mages, witches, poachers, etc. Don’t expect vampires and werewolves though. Seriously. You are more likely to find a hobbit in this story than Edward Cullen. 
> 
> If you have read this much of an author’s note, you deserve all the cookies. All of them. By the way, if anyone is interested in beta-reading, send me a shout out, as I’d be very grateful. (I’ve been on hiatus for… well… years. So a beta would be good probably.)
> 
> Thank you for reading.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Dragon-Blooded](https://archiveofourown.org/works/897812) by [dreamcatcher (darcangell23)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darcangell23/pseuds/dreamcatcher)




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